(let me be the one that matters)
okay. okay i'm gonna be up front. this is very, very fucked up and it may be disturbing. child sexual abuse. it's. bad. also endgame spoilers. no romantic relatinships She's broken in every place, and she doesn't have the tools to fix herself. let me be the one that matters The red light on the camera comes on to show that it’s recording. Miu taps on it a few times to focus the lens, then double checks that the live feed really is playing on her laptop. It’s seven minutes after ten at night, and her parents are asleep in the other room. She can’t be up too late, since it’s a school night, but she figures that a bit of exhaustion in the morning will be worth it. The window blows open again, letting harsh wind into the room. Miu leaps up from her spot on the floor, lands on her mattress with one foot, and slams it shut. The latch broke last month, and she doesn’t have enough funds saved up from her shows to fix it. She knows there’s a rubber band somewhere that could temporarily hold it shut, but she hasn’t a clue what she’s done with it. She steps down from her mattress, and returns to her spot on the floor. She can hear her brother snoring on the other side of the paper thin walls, and lightly bites her lip. She’ll have to be extra quiet tonight, lest she wake him up. Yuuto Iruma is thirteen years old, and doesn’t deserve to be involved with what Miu is up to. Miu clicks the box on her screen that says ‘Headphones Advised’, then runs a hand through her hair. She looks good, at least, for her standards. It’s two minutes before her night time show goes live, and there’s already a hundred people sitting on her channel, waiting. She supposes that’s what three months of daily filming will do for you. It’s good that she has an audience - when she first started, she would be lucky if she had six people by the end. Bigger audiences mean bigger tips, and she needs all the money that she can get. Breathe in. Breathe out. Empty your mind of all your problems, and then you’ll be free. That’s the mantra that her father’s friends preach as they drink their sorrows away on the living room sofa. Miu’s known these men since she was seven, and she’s taken their wisdom to heart. After doing the exercise twice, she feels ready to begin, and clicks the box that says, ‘On Air.’ The chat lights up with comments almost instantly, and more viewers flock onto her channel as she flashes a smile. Miu gives them a minute to compose themselves, then huskily whispers, “Evening, everyone. Feeling good tonight?” The chat almost explodes again, and she responds, “Easy, we’ve got a long night ahead of ourselves.” She smiles once more, then takes her shirt off. - “And this is my lovely daughter, Miu. She just turned seven.” The living room smells like cigars and beer. That’s no different than usual, but the sensation feels more uncomfortable when you’re directly exposed to the stench. Miu wrinkles her nose, but then bows to hide her expression from her father’s friends. One of them - tall, black hair, looks like a weed whacker - jeers, “Seven? Nah, Haru, she’s at least twelve. Don’t give me that shit.” Her father scoffs, “You’re hilarious. Why don’t you throw a chip in if you’re so eager?” Weed Whacker tosses two poker chips onto a pile near the centre of the table, then takes a swig of his beer. Miu keeps her head down, not wanting to look these men in the eye. Her stomach feels tight. “Miu,” her father says, keeping his voice low so that he can’t be heard by anyone but her, “would you go to the freezer and get the appetizers? Be a dear, okay?” He squeezes her arm. Miu nods, and then races away. Anything to get out of the smelly livingroom. She jumps into a pair of flip flops that are lying on the ground, and heads into the garage, where the freezer is. She slides down the railing, landing just in front of the creaky, stained freezer. The appetizers are right near the top, and Miu carefully pulls them out, and carries them back up the stairs on the tray. Weed Whacker and a man with a brown cow lick are arguing by the time that she gets back. Miu sets the appetizer tray on the table and prepares to leave, when her father lays a hand on her shoulder. “Can you stay, sweetheart?” he murmurs gently into her ear, “Be of service, in case they need anything? Your mother would do this, but you know that she’s too sick to get out of bed.” Miu thinks of her mother, lying in bed, coughing her lungs out with every breath. She doesn’t want to stay, she doesn’t trust Weed Whacker, Cow Lick, or even the calm looking guy off to the side with the earrings, but she does trust her father. And he would never ask her to do anything that would hurt her, right? Right? She goes to bed tired, sore, and terrified of Friday evenings. - The show finishes up at quarter to midnight, earlier than usual. Miu gives her viewers one last taste as a gift, then de-selects the ‘On Air’ box. Once she’s off camera for sure, she rips the connecting cord out of her laptop, and shuts off the video camera. She’s tired. She’s just so tired. After pulling her shirt and underwear back on, Miu scrolls through her donations tab. There’s some good money from her regulars - and thank god too, her father’s been on her case lately - and a few donations from other viewers. Totalled, it’ll be enough to keep her in the house for another solid month, though a new window latch is another story. With her funds taken care of, Miu climbs into bed, and flings her quilt on top of her. She’ll take care of the mess tomorrow. For now, she needs to sleep. Sure, there’s piles of homework that she hasn’t completed, and she’s falling behind in nearly all her classes, but she’ll scrape by, she always does, no matter how many excuses she has to invent. - Even after her mother recovers from whatever mysterious ailment she had been afflicted with, Miu is the one called upon to attend to her father’s friends on Friday evenings. For the most part, it’s okay. Sure, she’s always uncomfortable, but that’s just because of the smell. Her father’s friends are nice, at least, they’re nice to her. So, she lets them hug her for a little longer than they should, lets their fingers trace her wrists, even though it makes her feel sick inside. (But that must be the smell of the room causing her to feel that way, nevermind that the feeling carries all the way through the house.) It carries on like this, simple, repetitive, terrifying, all the way until her thirteenth birthday. All day, her family’s been good to her, different than from her mother’s usual screaming, different than the disappointed looks she always gets. So what if she can adjust the toaster so that it works better? So what if she made the radiator work after months of nothing but cold air? She’s still a waste of space, and she doesn’t belong anywhere. The nice treatment she’s gotten feels so good, so refreshing after days of abuse, but it doesn’t last, because why would something nice ever last? It’s late, and she’s just curling up to sleep in her bed, when her father pushes open the door, a smile on his face. It’s not his usual smile, it’s scary, and Miu clutches the folds of her quilt in fear. “Shhh… don’t be scared, angel,” he whispers, sitting down on her bed. Miu moves her feet just before he crushes them, her heart speeding up at a phenomenal rate. Her father says, “I have one extra present for you, darling. Now that you’re a teenager, you’re much more mature, so I can give you this gift.” In the morning, and for the rest of her life after, Miu will still smell like his cologne, and be able to taste the cigar smoke in between her teeth. - “Oy, Iruma. Are you gonna skip today?” The school bathroom is a dingy, disgusting place to be. Miu doubts that it’s even been cleaned, but she doesn’t have anywhere else that she can go before class. The fading light bulbs above the cracked mirrors give just enough light so that she can see herself on the camera of her phone. She takes another selfie, her tongue lightly teasing out the side of her mouth, then replies, “Nah. I’ve got a physics test. Wait… Uzuchi, I told you that last night.” Uzuchi takes a puff of her cigarette, “And? So what if you’ve got a fucking test? I asked you if you were gonna skip, because if you go to class, then so do I. There’s no point in fucking off if there’s nobody to do it with.” “Go with Atsuhiko, then, if you’re so desperate to get out,” Miu says, snapping another selfie. She flutters her eyelashes a few times, snapping pictures as she does. Uzuchi replies, “That fake bitch? Hell no! All she does is whine about how shitty she’s supposedly got it… She doesn’t know a fucking thing about the real world.” Miu shrugs, dragging her tongue across the teeth as she takes a shot, “She’s your only choice. I’m taking that test if it kills me.” “Ugh,” Uzuchi drops her cigarette, then grinds it into the floor with the toe of her shoe, “Why do you want to take it so badly? It’s not like you’ll do good, or anything!” With that, she struts out of the room. Miu waits for her footsteps to fade away, then pulls down part of her shirt to take a few more risque photos. Once she’s satisfied, she browses her photos, curious to see how they look. There’s four shots for her instagram, and three for her cam profile. The one thing that’s good about her is that she’s always been incredibly photogenic. As it turns out, the physics test is complete shit, and she’s unable to discern a word. Luckily for Miu, Yamamoto still sits in front of her, and still writes her answers huge. She copies what she can, enough to do well on the test, but not enough to make the teacher suspicious of her. It’s all she can do now. - Miu awakens in the night to see her father at the end of her bed, pleasuring himself. She tenses and covers herself with her blankets as quickly as she can. He looks over her and offers a sick smile, “Shh… It’s okay, you’re safe.” She lies awake for the rest of the night. - Her show goes off without a hitch that night, bringing in a total of six hundred and fifty-eight viewers, which is almost a new record. As Miu pulls her clothes back on, she looks through her donations, seeing what she’s been given. There’s the money from the regulars, which is much appreciated, and then there’s one donation with a long comment. It’s only one hundred yen, the absolute minimum donations that she accepts, but the comment goes for nearly half a page. It’s all about how this older man wants to fuck her over a table, and she rolls her eyes. These comments are common. Halfway through, he starts talking about a reality show that most of her classmates are obsessed with, and she stops paying attention. So many comments like these, and so little money given. A hundred yen is a hundred yen, but it’s never enough, not with all the gross responses she gets. Miu supposes that it’s better than how things were before, because now that she’s performing, her father rarely bothers coming into her room at night. He probably watches her show, now that she thinks about it. Miu throws up a little bit in her mouth. Her stomach pulses, and she races to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. “You sick, disgusting cow,” she murmurs to her distorted reflection, “You absolute fucking pig.” - Just before she falls asleep, her bedroom door creaks open. Miu opens one eye to see her father poking his head in. He smiles at the sight of her - the same smile he has just before he kisses her, before his hands run all over her body - and enters the room silently. “Hello, cupcake,” he murmurs, “I missed you today. I was thinking about you the whole time I was at work. How are you feeling?” Miu squeaks, “I’m… really tired.” Maybe then he’ll leave, maybe then he won’t feel the need to bother her tonight. She’s not even tired anymore, just scared. But like always, he kisses her, and she tastes his tobacco and sweat, while his hands grope every crevice. She stays tense, but he only seems to enjoy it more, enjoy the fact that she’s practically a doll. Finally, her father breaks away, leaving her shaking on her bed, as he leaves the room. Miu cries into her pillow that night. It’s no different than any other night she’s had for the past week, month, year, but it somehow feels worse. How easy would it be for her to die? (Easy enough, easy enough. There’s bleach in the cupboard under the sink.) - Miu sits on the railing near the smoke pit, while Uzuchi leans against the crumbling brick walls. It's early, so there's nobody else besides them hanging around. It's good that way, Miu thinks. Uzuchi is cranky when she's with lots of people so early. Atsuhiko arrives after about half an hour, her brown hair billowing behind her. Uzuchi rolls her eyes at the sight of her, and focuses back on her cigarette. Atsuhiko approaches Miu, and says, “Holy shit.” “What?” Miu asks, raising an eyebrow. Atsuhiko seems out of sorts, her hair is tangled, and her face seems unwashed. Her clothes are wrinkled too, like they spent the night lying on the floor. “You will not fucking believe-” Atsuhiko says, running her hands through her hair- “what happened on last night’s episode of Dangan Ronpa. It was off the fucking wall!” Uzuchi scoffs, “Ugh, grow up! That stupid reality show of yours is so last year. Nobody cares about it anymore, dumbass!” Atsuhiko crosses her arms defensively, “It’s the most popular show in the country. But whatever, what would you know about good taste?” Uzuchi flips her off. Miu rolls her eyes, “What’s got you so wound up? You look like a damn train wreck right now, for fuck’s sake. Have you looked in a mirror lately?” “Don’t encourage her,” Uzuchi spits, “Iruma, you motherfucker!” Atsuhiko says, “Last night, the Super High-School Level Tactician was murdered! Everyone was placing bets this whole time that he’d be a killer, with how he behaved. I had two thousand yen on that!” “That all?” Miu asks, glancing at her nails, “And here I thought something serious had happened.” Atsuhiko cocks her head, “This is serious! He was fucking decapitated! This hasn’t happened since season twenty-nine! It’s almost unheard of… and the worst part is, I think the Super High-School Level Acrobat did it, and she’s my favourite!” Miu eyes Atsuhiko for a second, then shoots a glance at Uzuchi, who won’t even look in their direction, and says, “Well, uh… I hope it wasn’t her, for your sake.” “My favourites never survive,” Atsuhiko pouts, “Closest I ever got was last season. The Super High-School Level Clothing Size Guesser was doing so well, and then he ended up being the mastermind. ...Turns out he was also really good at planning murders.” She talks for a bit longer, then leaves Miu and Uzuchi alone in the pit. Uzuchi scowls, “God, finally. Why the hell did you let her talk? Don’t tell me you like that garbage show.” Miu scoffs, “Have some faith in me. I just figured if she talked now, she wouldn’t be bothering us about it all day, y’know? I’m thinking ahead.” “You never think about anything you do,” Uzuchi replies. - In between unwanted kisses, her father breathes into her ear, “The world would be so jealous of your body.” Miu doesn't reply, and tries to regulate her shaky breathing. She has no idea what the next thing he's going to say is, but it terrifies her immensely. He murmurs, “I’m sure you could show it off… I don’t like sharing, but there’s an easy happy medium. Would you like that, sugarplum?” “Yes,” she replies, lying through her teeth. (Maybe she’ll learn to enjoy it. She she want this, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t she?) - The words swim in front of her face. Miu runs her finger down the page, over and over again, trying to make sense of what she’s reading, but her brain refuses to process it. Everything feels light, too light, like she could take one step, and fall endlessly into nothing. So that must be why she’s slipping. Slipping away from reality, from life as a whole. It’s not like anyone really needs her. She’s not smart, not funny, not good for anything besides showing off her body on the internet to grown men. Miu hits the floor. The next thing that she’s consciously aware of is a damp paper towel being pressed to her forehead, and the gross yellow lights of the bathroom. She groans, and receives a gentle squeeze to the shoulder. “It’s okay, Iruma-chan. It’s just me,” whispers a friendly voice. As Miu’s vision focuses, she realizes it’s Yamamoto, and relaxes. Her friend moves the paper towel over a bit. Miu whispers, “What… happened?” Yamamoto replies softly, “You fell to the ground in the middle of class. Are you feeling okay? Have you eaten anything today?” She forces a weak smile onto her face, “Don’t worry about me, Yamamoto-chan. I was just up way too late last night.” That part is at least true. She had filmed herself until she was almost falling asleep. Yamamoto rubs her back, “Well, I’m going to worry about you anyways. And figure out how to kick Uzuchi in the teeth. She was laughing at you.” Miu tenses, “That… sounds like her.” “She’s so fucking awful,” Yamamoto mutters. Aloud, Miu agrees. But inwardly, Miu wishes she was more like her classmate. Confident in who she was, okay with being rebellious, willing to take risks. Her entire life has been nothing but crawling by, following the rules, never acting out. And what has that got her? Nothing. Her stomach convulses. - Miu awakens in the night to see her father at the end of her bed, pleasuring himself. She rolls over and goes back to sleep. - As she rides the bus back from school, Miu gets an alert on her phone, stating that she’s got a donation. Confused, she taps the notification. She rarely gets donations when she’s not live. The donation is over forty thousand yen. Miu stares at it, her hands shaking. This has to be a mistake, nobody would willingly give her that much money. She goes to reject it, when she sees the attached message. Hey, kid. Listen, I know that you’re in a tough spot. I mean, why else would you be doing what you’re doing if you weren’t? But hear me out: you can’t go on like this. I know what this sounds like, but there’s so many reasons that you have to stop. What you’re doing is highly illegal, as you’re under age. If you need money so badly, do anything else, I beg you. I don’t want someone like you, someone with such a bright future ahead of themself to end up in jail. Save a rich kid’s life, get on a reality show, get away from this place. This will hopefully get you started. I believe in you. You have the potential to do great things. Live a good life. Miu reads the message over and over again. She glances out the window, then back at the message again. What does she do? Her fingers begin to move on their own, as she googles a term that she never would have a month ago. ‘Dangan Ronpa Auditions Kyoto.’ It is the most popular show in the country, after all. - (Her mother smacks her across the face, and her father looks on with disappointment when she tells them she got on the show, but for the first time in her life, they don’t stop her, almost as if they want her to die on television.) - Miu Iruma wakes up inside of a locker. Her heart is thumping, and she can’t figure out why. She pushes her way out, only to see a classroom, and fall short. Where is she? Why is she here? She can’t remember a thing. She and a short red haired girl, who stumbled out a locker moments after she did, make their way to a gymnasium, only to be met with several other people, and… robots? She isn’t entirely sure, but it makes the hair on her arms stand on end. Someone throws an outfit at her that she would never consider wearing, but something about the atmosphere forces her to do it. She feels strange, and either the room is spinning, or it’s her head. Something tugs at her skin, and she bats the invisible touch away, she’s had enough of strangers being so close to her, had enough had enough had enough. - Miu Iruma wakes up inside of a locker. Her heart is thumping, but it must be the adrenaline that courses through her blood. She slams the door open, a wild grin on her face. She’s met with a mysterious looking classroom, but that doesn’t phase her. Why would it? After all, she’s Miu fucking Iruma! A savant among citizens, a god among kings! The world needs her, needs her more than it has ever needed anyone. (As it should.) Category:Brighty's Stuff Category:Fanfictions Category:Dangan Ronpa Category:NDRV3 Category:Worse Category:Non-Warriors Category:Non-Ace Attorney Category:Finished Stories